The ghost of a genius
by I am Johnl0cked
Summary: What if Sherlock slipped into a coma, one that John knew that despite all the hope he had for him to wake up once more, just to look into those beautiful green eyes one last time and tell him he loved him, it had little chance of ever happening. Could Sherlock's spirit that was doomed to walk the earth help John solve the case and even safe him from the gun in his nightstand? -R&R-
1. Chapter 1

_-Chapter one: __**John**__-_

Sherlock had been immersed in his experiments for the past few days and barley had time to stop and focus on the things he deemed unnecessary or useless; things like '_eating'_ or_ 'sleeping'_. Only in the brief moments of the morning before work did we have our small conversations usually consisting of nothing more than "sleep Sherlock. Now." Or the even more frequent "eat Sherlock, I mean it." To my knowledge he ignored me, except for the rare time I came home to find him eating the left over pasta I had made him, although he denies ever doing so. The thought made me smile and I started to leave meals in the fridge for him to eat at his convince, at least it was better than him eating nothing at all.

On the fourth day of his frantic scientific discoveries did I come home and decided enough was enough. I had walked home that evening from work thoroughly ticked off thanks to one particularly prat patient having claimed that if I didn't give him pills for his "pain" he'd sue. Even to me, the humble surgeon without the deducing brain of a 'god', it was obvious that the man was a junkie looking for a fix. Shortly after the having out I left, leaving the nurse to pick up the stranglers that wandered in the night and as always to call me should anything come up. When I reached the flat I could see the light was still on from the window and was fully prepared to storm upstairs and give Sherlock a piece of my mind to finally sleep for the night.

I walked in the door way and was stopped by Miss Hudson. She was smiling her usually motherly smile "hello deary" she said cheerily "I'm just about to go out with the girls tonight" I heard the distant honking of a horn from outside "tell Sherlock to take that head out of the freezer, its starting to stink up the place." She huffed and scrunched up her face."and make sure you don't get into too much trouble boys" she patted my back and with one more honk of the hurried horn she left out the door "I'll tell him Miss Hudson" I smiled and waved as I watched them drive off safely. I closed the door and locked it securely. Turning on my heal I took off up the stairs eager to have my nightly ritual of evening tea while watching telly, after I force Sherlock to bed of course which would most likely be a difficult task, and that was putting it mildly.

I opened the door fully expecting to see Sherlock buzzing away looking through a microscope, or talking to the skull about the fundamentals of who-knows-what, which I had caught him doing more than a handful of times. The last thing I had expected to see was what I was presented with; opening the door I encountered Sherlock sprawled out over the couch with his lengthy legs sticking out awkwardly over the edge. He wore the shirt I had seen him pouncing around this morning in, going on about something I was too tired to understood to but enjoyed listening his rant none the less. His curled was matted and looked as if he'd been running his hand through it all day. The chocolate curls fell and all over his face were his deep gray green eyes were closed peacefully. Seeing him in a way that directly contrasted his normal over bearing brilliant self made my lips curl in a happy smile, he left out a cute little snore and I had to try to suppress a snort of laughter that might wake him. Really it should be illegal to be this adorable. I grabbed the blanket from the nearby chair and laid it over him affectionately. With one last look over the sleeping man I smiled to myself and flicked the light switch in the kitchen. I went to my room and closed the door quietly and dreamt of Sherlock.


	2. Chapter 2

_-Chapter two: __**Sherlock**__-_

The last few of days- no weeks- possibly, Unimportant anyhow just another of those things that takes up space in my mind. Back to the point, I have been ridiculously busy on a breakthrough on the Harris case from years past. This cases solution has eluded me for years, always, _always_, taunting with me in the back of my mind. It played with me, begging me to crack the valuable piece of some little incrementing proof I had previously over looked countless times before. Something never seemed right with that case, something unsettling. I had personally been over all the evidence I had retrieved from Scotland Yard but unfortunately, I was for lack of a better word 'stumped'. And I did not like that fact **at all**.

It had been (by my count) two days ago since John had triggered something that I hadn't thought of as a possibility. I had been standing near the window playing my violin to a tune that I had been composing, my eyes closed as my thoughts dissolved into the sounds the fine instrument was making. John had been in the kitchen, by the smell was making toast and was just pulling down the grape flavored jelly; he had run out of strawberry in day's prier. He grabbed the knife from the door and began the process of eating of which he so loved to do on a regular basis. I found that to be a trivial manner but by his tone of voice he knew that I had not eaten for some time and was 'putting his foot down on this.' I knew from previous attempts that I should obey his commands when talked to me like this; John was a surprisingly assertive man when it concerned my well being.

My thoughts were occupied with the specifics of the case while I nibbled at the toast laid out in front of me, John was going on In a riot about the patient that had entered his office that day, claiming that he had "nearly lost an eye on a dare that his buddies had put him up to" apparently John disapproves of the use of throwing knifes for recreational use, noted. "Sherlock?" He asked. With my mind focus on the stunningly boring chore of eating and the thoughts of the case I couldn't focus on the tale John had been telling for the last five minutes "John, if you were a criminal, what would cause you to steal the chain from your victim's jewelry but leave the jewels behind?" I asked him in the mists of his sentence. He looked bewildered for a moment before gaining composure. From the look in his eyes he was calculating an answer "maybe I'm not in it for the money and only want a memento?" he asked taking a bite of his toast "no, to easy." I said dismissed. I had thought of that already. I needed a new perspective on this case and John, being smarter than the buffoons that occupied my daily life, I thought would be the best choice. He thought for another moment and took a sip of his tea. "How do you know the jewels belonged to the victims?" he questioned.

My mind faltered, of course I had made sure the jewels were real and that from the love ones testimony that the victim's did indeed own jewels like these. I thought for a moment until that particular thought spread out in spider web like trees, branching out to other possible solutions. "Stupid! So so so stupid!" I stood up abruptly and nearly knocked over the table along with the tea cups and the toast. "I-I'm sorry?" John said with his face riddled with confusion "we can't all be geniuses Sherlock…" he muttered under his breath. I held him by the arms and smiled brightly "John you beautiful genius! How could I have been so blind!" I laughed and ran to the phone and texted Lestrade.

-Need the Jewels from the Harrison case.-SH-


	3. Chapter 3

**Hiya! It's me this is my first fanfiction ever so if you could tell me how im doing, how I could get better ect. That would be great J leave a review thanks!**

**-Chapter 3: ****_John_****- **

He hadn't seemed to notice the blanket I had put around him the night before, but this is _Sherlock_ so he must just be staying quiet for both my dignity and his. I came down the steps later than my usual hour because it was my day off. I walked into the kitchen and was confronted by the dangerous sight of Sherlock groaning in frustration. "John!" he yelled out making my heart jump so early in the morning "dear lord Sherlock! Calm down" I breathed out. "I need your help. It's about the jewels I asked you about." It took me a moment for my groggy mind to remember the conversation the two of us had shared nearly a week ago. It wasn't unusual for Sherlock to ask a question that pertained to a topic only he knew. But this particular question i managed to by either random deity or random stroke of luck i had gotten it right.

It must have taken me too long to remember because Sherlock was growing impatient "John!" he snapped, sounding for all the world like a toddler wanting his bottle. I bite back a chuckle that would only make the situation worse and smiled instead "what about them?" I asked. He extended his arm to the open chair out in front of him. I stood still for a moment before taking the seat cautiously. He bent down over my shoulder a little too close for comfort. A slight blush rose to my checks despite my will against it. I cleared my throat "what am I looking at Sherlock?" he motioned to the jewels spilled out on the desk and the magnifying glass. "I need someone to hold the light in place. I tried all morning to do it myself but the lamp wasn't direct enough for me to get a good look." He said handing me the torch "seriously? You waited around all morning for me to hold a bloody torch" I huffed annoyed. 'and here I thought I could be of actual use for once' I thought dryly but despite my protest I held the light up on the jewel. "well it was your day off and lately you looked tired." He said quietly looking at the stone. The blush I had grew into a honey pink 'thank god he's looking at that stone' I smiled.

Even if he didn't show it in 'normal' ways I knew he cared. Besides, I wouldn't want Sherlock to be 'normal'. He is arrogant, brilliant, rude, and obnoxious but normal was not even close on the list that made Sherlock, Sherlock. I often admired the way his eyes grew a light at the scene of a crime, for him to really be in his natural element. It reminded me of the way a shark sailed the reef knowing it was at the top of the food chain and was untouchable.

"John?" his voice snapped me from my thoughts as I realized the light had slipped to shinning upon the carpet. "s-sorry" I gave a small grin and returned to the gem. The light bounced off the jewel and reflected off the hard surfaces of the room. The blue jewel's light shined several blue triangles across his face and I couldn't help think of him a disco ball, this time I couldn't hold back a laugh. He looked at me questioningly with one of his eyebrows raised "do you have a fever? You had been looking tired recently but I could assume that was from the patients at the office." Without notice or warning he spun the chair around to face him.

Now, Sherlock had always been, and always will be much taller than me, and it this particular situation that simple fact only made things more awkward. He had been standing in front of the chair I occupied, with my eye level on par with… you get the picture. He slowly bent down and place a cool hand on my forehead and held it there. "S-Sherlock what are you doing?" I asked my eyes attempting to look anywhere but the glorious lips that lay before me. "you don't have a fever, but judging by the flush in your cheeks and your shorter than normal attention span, you should rest for awhile" he said. My eyes betrayed me and caught a glimpse of his face. Concern pooled in his eyes and my heart melted. "I'm a doctor Sherlock, I'll be fine." I gave a reassuring smile and he left go of my head. He carried on with the jewels as normal but I could still see the worried glances pointed at me from the corner of my eye.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! please review and favorite if you like. I promise some more Johnlock in the future )**

**-Chapter 4: ****_Sherlock_****-**

John was behaving strangely. Its true that he is a doctor and can take care of his self but why is it affecting me this way? Maybe he has been in contact with a virus and subsequently given me that virus? No impossible. I haven't been sick for years plus I'm not showing the same symptoms John is. Then that only brings me back to the original point, 'why would I feel …worried? For john?' I thought. We weren't being chased by a gunman. There wasn't an assassin with John as the mark. There wasn't even so much as a shady hot dog salesman, and I refuse to talk about the events that happened last time that happened. No, this was just an average cold, yet I can't stop my eyes from constantly checking if he has spontaneously fallen ill over the table. I must think about this further after I had finished with the diamonds. I pushed the thought to the back of my mind with the other things to be pondered over and picked at. Among those thoughts was the blanket this morning and the feeling associated with it, or the leftovers that were neatly stacked on the 'food' side of the fridge, not to be confused with the experiments side, I also refuse to talk about the events that happened then.

My mind tried to focus on the gleaming gems but it kept slipping back to the enigma named John. The solider from the war who likes tea, jam, and jumpers with evening telly, seemingly normal in every sense of the word yet there is something, something that makes him different. I admired that difference possibly above all else. I also admired the way he could make me laugh, really laugh not just the chuckle that would appear after a self proclaimed genius would spill his plot, which of course compared to me, was child's play. I also enjoyed the way his smile reminded me of home, something that I hadn't associated with, with anyone for most of my adult life.

'Back to the case' I thought mentally force myself to focus upon the jewelry. The light bouncing off it landed on john and while the sight was amusing, I noticed something particular. "John stay absolutely still" I ordered walking over to check the light reflected on his forehead. As I drew closer I noticed how his back and shoulders tensed visibly. I put my gloved hand on his forehead once more and looked more closely at the triangle of light cast upon his head. I grabbed my magnifying glass and examined further "Sherlock I swear to god if you're looking at a zit or something…" his ranting went off into an incoherent mumble that I could only smile inwardly at. "John! You're brilliant!" I smiled from ear to ear and jumped on the balls of my feet. i turned to the other various jewels scattered on the desk "shine the light on this one" I told him and smiled even further as I went down the line of the gems.

On each gem was a single letter embossed on one of the edges of the stone, and put in the order of the crimes committed the letters spelled out

_'Come find me'_


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey its me again J please review and tell me what you think I promise much more action just ahead ;)**

_-Chapter 5: __**John**__-_

From what Sherlock had told me about the case in between his ramblings and ranting was that: Four years ago a series of young blond women, all within the age range of 16 and 22. Each was strangled with a thin line of which was determined to be fine line. Besides the specific victim's and killing style, the killer always left jewels on the eyes of his latest kill. The Yard had been stumbling around the case as they usually did before Lestrade took it upon himself to send the case Sherlock's way. He had come very, very close to catching him, but the snake slipped through his thin fingers time and time again.

The message the killer had left year ago continued to throw Sherlock into an excited frenzy. The rest of the morning he had been locked in his 'Mind palace' pondering over the meaning of the message: 'Come find me'. And the five last jewels the killer left. Most of the time he was unresponsive, I tried to ask him questions but he stayed in his chair with a vacant expression relaxed over his features. 'what is going on in there?' I thought to myself finding myself looking at him for the third time just this passing hour. Of course the message sparked my curiosity but nothing I could possibly deduce could measure up to the ingenuous plot that Sherlock will undoubtedly figure out before the days end. I thought about the strand of three numbers and two letters that the last five jewels spelled out.

**_"364MJ"_**

To me and to any normal person they were just the random leftovers of some unfinished thought or phrase but to Sherlock it must have meant a great deal more. Around mid morning I had been enjoying a sandwich in the kitchen when I a large _thud _came from where I had left Sherlock this morning. I came running in worried about the many possibilities that could had have happened from Sherlock exploding the lamp to see 'if it could really get as hot as it says" or the worse fear. The fear that made my stomach churn and my face pale from just the thought, the thought that an old enemy of Sherlock's had invaded the apartment wanting to enact revenge…_again. _I reached the area with none of the previous scenarios I had come up with evident at first glance. First I checked the lamp, fully intact. Then my eyes roamed onto Sherlock, fully alone and safe. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "What in the world was that?" I all but shouted feeling a wash of relief and upcoming excitement that was about to come judging by the look in his beautiful eyes.

"John! O, John she is good, very ,very good!" he ginned twirling about the room. His smile was infectious "who is she, what happened?" I asked trying to catch on to the plot that Sherlock was no doubt already hundreds of steps ahead of me. I grasped me by the shoulders and laughed, if a bit manically but still made my stomach fill with butterflies none the less. "364MJ John! I had all the answers all along, how could I not see it before it's so simple!" he exclaimed. I couldn't help but chuckle. To Sherlock AP college chem. was simple. "Slow down Sherlock" I grinned despite my attempts to falter it.  
"Slow down? Slow down?! O john, we are only just getting started!" he grin never slipped from his face and neither did mine.


	6. Chapter 6

** Hello! Thanks for taking the time to read. its my very first story and im not going to lie, i got 2 follows yesterday and i jumped over the moon! If you like it let me now review please!**

-Chapter six: **Sherlock**- _inside the mind palace_

I trotted along the hallowed halls with quiet anticipation, without John by my side it seemed empty and somehow less enjoyable. It was quiet, simple, and serene. No distraction to take my attention away from the task at hand, and that task was: The case. The floors were tiled in white to match the white wash walls. There were no windows to show the sun so the light was supplied by the fluorescent lights just above my head. I walked along the back corridor to the room that held the facts about the case. As I walked I thought about the strand of left over numbers and letters '364mj' and the many possibilities that it could mean. I turned a sharp left and opened the door to the desired room. As was most of the more interesting cases the forefront of the room held the crime scene laid out perfectly as I had walked it four years before.

I had walked on to the set of memories blending in like a ghost not being able to interact with the others around me. Anderson had been bent over in the corner fiddling with some type of equipment and scowling his trademarked Anderson scowl. "Four years earlier and Anderson still is the annoying prat he is today" I mumbled. Lestrade had been passing the floor frantically running his hand through his black hair. Donovan hadn't been on the force at that point and was instead replaced with Greg. He was old and neared retirement and as we now know, was then replaced with Sally. Greg was photographing the body that lay out before me on the floor of the small apartment the officers had to squeeze around each other to fit. I slowly stuck out my hand in front of me. The scene in front of me slowed to a halt in a freeze frame.

I knelt to the ground beside the body and across Greg. I looked around the last victim of the leftover anagram. 'J'. Nothing seemed particularly out of place, in fact as far as murders go this seemed relatively normal. She was laying face up next to the shattered remains of a small blue coffee mug. She had a blue sapphire jewel laying across her right eyelid and a thick mark across her necked from the fishing line. "_What makes you so special?"_ I asked confused. The only thing I had found linking the five women together was the obvious physical appearance. Taking a look upon the small flat she lay in I first visited the pictures that hung on the wall in cute decorative frames. I peered closer trying to take in every detail "What is it? _What!" _I asked myself growing more and more impatient. I was so close tittered on the edge of a breakthrough, I could feel it like a fizzle or a buzz that rattle my body electricity. In two of the pictures she was with family. In three she had been standing alone smiling. Judging by the newly acquired tan it was on a vacation of some sort.

From the witness statements she lived alone, no romantic involvements, and not many friends to speak of either just like the other victims before her. _"Who would go on a vacation alone?"_ I thought bitterly slowly growing aggravated by the lack of progress. I thought for a moment and the sensation in my fingers began to crack against my skin like bursting bubbles as I pondered that last question "_who _took those pictures?" I thought. Judging by the backdrop it had been in three different places and several small photographic details I could tell it was taken by the same photographer. My mind whirled. Revisiting the other four scenes in my mind it proved to be the same story, three photographs of the women standing alone smiling, each taken by the same person. A _connection!_

When I was just about to reach the exit a door that I had not designed appeared next to it. My curiosity got the best of me and I peaked inside, opening the door just crack I saw something I had most _definitely_ I had not put in there.

The first of my senses to react was my nose. A scent wafted to my nose. It reminded me of when leaving for a vacation for an extended period and returned home to smell the things you can only associate with it. The smell of toast rose in the air along with the after scent of strawberry jam. The color of the walls changed as I walked further in the room spanning from a deep royal blue to a warm and cheerful green, not like the sickly green that covered the walls in Mincroft's new office, but one that somehow made me feel safe. I stepped inside and continued to walk to the kitchen where the smell was coming from. "Sherlock it's about time you got here!" said a cheery voice that I knew immediately. "John? What on earth are you doing here?" I asked thoroughly confused. No one had a room in the mind palace, it's designed specially and strategically for optimum efficiency. "Hell if I know, you put me didn't you?" he smiled and I couldn't find myself looking away from his pink soft lips. He seemed to grow impatient with my lack of answer and snapped in my face "eyes up here Sherlock" he flashed another warm smile and I could see the walls had changed color to a red, not a deep red. One might even say it's pink actually the more I thought they reassembled the color of john's lips.

"its very rude to stare" he huffed. For the first time in my life I couldn't think of the right string of words to say in a sentence "um… what had you asked?" I chocked out trying to get my mind working again. "Sherlock, you've locked all of these strange thoughts about me, wondering about the blanket on your shoulders after a long night of experiments, the feeling you get when I make you laugh, and the way your stomach flutters when I smile. It's all in this one tiny room and now you need to figure them out." He stood with his back straight and his face tough and strong but his eyes still portrayed a soft glow of kindness that only John could pull off. "Figure w-what out? I haven't the slightest idea on what you're rambling on about!" I turned from him and faced the window of the room. 'Window? What happened to the lights?' I thought. John just sighed and cast his eyes down to the floor "you, out of all people should be able to deduce what this room means." He put his warm, firm, callused hand of a solider but still gentle, strong… wait what had he just said? I had been lost in the list of the long terms that I link with John, I rather liked that list. "I'll leave you with that" he smiled and looked deep into my eyes as if searching for something. He gave one last smile and within the next blink I was back at out flat out of the palace.


End file.
